


Hitchhiking under the big top

by maybeillride



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Almost completely fluff, Alternate Universe - Circus, But Levi and Nile do, Eruri Secret Santa 2017, Erwin and community theater don't mix, F/M, In this story anyway, M/M, Motorcycles, Performance Art, Road Trips, Very light reincarnation feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13110555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/pseuds/maybeillride
Summary: Levi and Nile take a well-earned vacation to ride their bikes out West. But they can't resist a detour along the way...





	Hitchhiking under the big top

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceRinky (Asexual_Ravioli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asexual_Ravioli/gifts).



> This is for the truly awesome Rinky, who was in need of a modern setting, with Eruri and a side of Nile and/or Marie. Somehow, this became "On the Road" with Levi and Nile instead. Canon? What is this... canon? (Very sorry to get it to you early as I can't be at a computer this weekend, but hopefully too early is better than too late.)
> 
> Well, I hope u enjoy Rinky, as a thank you for all the fabulous fics you gift to the SNK fandom. Read her if you haven't! And Merry Christmas :D

Levi starts seeing the mysterious signs as soon as he and Nile cross the state line.

They’re hardly bigger than the weird old ones Levi remembers from the roads down south, when his uncle Kenny used to get one of his random wanderlusts and pile ‘em both in his beat-up old Charger. Levi would hang out the window like a dog, the fall wind cold and jarring on his face, and Kenny would laugh and drive faster. And then the signs would materialize in the red dirt on the side of the country road, warning people to slow the fuck down or, alternately, hurry the fuck up and turn to the Lord before the end of the world. The latter ones usually helpfully included directions to the local church. He remembers asking Kenny if they could stop at one. They’d just blown past and Levi was both captivated and a little scared by the huge red-neon cross on its roof.

Kenny didn’t even slow down. “Kid, until you're old enough to convince me otherwise, I’m your God. Okay?” From anyone else Levi might have been scared. But Levi just giggled and hung his head back out in the rushing air.

He and Nile pull the bikes over for lunch at a rest area, in the shade of a nice stand of pines. It feels beyond-fantastic to get off onto solid ground and stretch his legs. Levi walks a little circle as he eats his Taco Bell, balancing on the heels of his boots. Nile, on the other hand, stays sitting on his bike like he can’t fucking bear to be parted from it even when they stop. Even by motorhead standards, it isn’t natural.

“Hey, you notice those weird signs?”

Nile crams the last third of his burger in his face before answering. Levi shudders.

“Yeah. Weird shit, for sure,” he finally says, still chewing. “West Coast, man. Swear to God, we’ve been driving downhill, ‘cause all the freaks ended up here.”

Levi finishes his burrito and wipes his hands carefully on a napkin. “Whatd’ya think they mean?”

Nile shrugs. Levi can tell he’s already bored with the conversation and ready to get moving again. “Couldn’t tell ya, Ackerman. There’s only so much wisdom I can fit up here.” He taps his oversized forehead, still sweaty from his helmet. “Amazing, I know.”

“Don’t ruin my image of you,” Levi tells him, making one last trip around his circle. Nile burps in his direction.

*

_Come learn how_  
_To break free_  
_From what imprisons_  
_You and me_

Oregon State Fairgrounds  
**One week only!**

“Don’t you fucking hate that??” Levi fumes, tapping the flyer taped to the backside of the gas station cash register.

Nile gets his change back from the kid at the counter and Levi collects their items (a Monster for him, a pack of Camels for Nile). The big man scans the flyer.

“What, shitty poetry?”

Levi snorts. The bell on the door jingles as they head back out to their bikes. “No. Blanketing the place with ads for your event then not even bothering to mention the dates. It’s just… so, fucking, irresponsible. Do they want people to show or not??” He shakes his head in disgust. “And shut up,” he tells Nile, who he can feel smirking from the corner of his eye.

“Aw. You’re just so cute when you’re anal-retentive, Levi.”

“Shut up.”

Nile kicks his bike to life then turns to look at him. “You wanna check this thing out, don’t you. You haven’t stopped talking about it. I’m getting a little sick of it, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Levi says a little defensively. “If it’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses we can ditch. Plus it’ll give us something to do tonight. IF we haven’t missed it. WHICH we have no idea about, given their shitty advertising…”

“You didn’t enjoy the strip club last night?” Nile asks plaintively.

Levi peels out rather than dignify that with a reply.

*

There’s a giant… big-top looking thing, white and gaudy in a field at the state fairgrounds, as they pull up that night.

“…huh,” Nile mentions, his whole being saying _huh_ from his raised eyebrows to his slouchy walk to his hands in his jeans pockets. “So. The circus?”

“Where’s your adventure, dammit. Why’d we take this trip, anyway. To do dumb shit like this!”

Levi’s amused at how fast Nile perks up once they reach the ticket window. Under the glow of the old fashioned café lights is possibly the prettiest thing they’ve seen on the road so far. Nile leans in on one elbow like it’s goddamn ladies’ night at the bar and he’s about to buy her a round.

“Hey there. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Levi internally face-palms. The woman blinks a few times at Nile like she can’t believe him, either, then calmly turns to Levi like the big doofus isn’t even there. “Two adults?”

“Yes. Please.” Levi swiftly slaps a twenty down before Nile can move in and embarrass himself further.

She smiles as she takes it and Levi understands Nile’s sudden idiocy, at least intellectually. It warms her whole face, crinkles the corners of her eyes and curves her cheeks, and Levi senses that she means it. Then she turns back to face Nile and drops her smile like a Halloween mask, blinking blankly as she tells them to enjoy the show.

Levi’s laughing as they pass through the entrance into darkness.

“Damn, she got you, son.”

“I’m not leaving without her,” Nile swears next to him, like some fucking community-theater Romeo.

“Uh, sure. Good luck with that.”

“Oh, you don’t know a thing about it. Don’t even talk to me.”

They start picking their way through a sparse crowd up to the top of a ring of bleachers, careful not to break their necks in the dark. The only light in the place beams down onto a circle below.

“I can’t even give you some friendly advice?”

It’s Nile’s turn to laugh this time, guffawing like Levi’s just told a particularly great joke. “The day I start needing tips from the resident gay about how to pick up women is the day I give up and start dating dudes.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” Levi tells him. With relish, he adds, “Swear to God. If every hetero took the time to eat just one asshole, we’d have a gay Renaissance on our hands.”

Nile glances around them, frowning. “Jesus, Levi…”

Thankfully for his friend and coworker, the light blinks out. Levi faces forward, a funny tickle of anticipation in his gut that he hasn’t felt in years.

Suddenly, a tight spotlight pops to life, illuminating a blond man in the ring. He’s big, huge really, even from their spot in the top bleacher.

 _Commander_ , pops into Levi’s mind, from literally nowhere. It’s like he’s playing an association game with some unknown, unseen person in the dark. He has no idea why the man is a commander to him. He’s all in black, a black turtleneck and slim black pants. Not a medal or an epaulet to be found. It’s something about his body language, as he stands calmly in the circle, glancing around at the audience. And then he starts talking.

“Greetings, friends!” their ringmaster for the evening booms out, and that’s exactly it, his voice _booms_ to fill the space without any microphone. It’s a great voice. A magnificent voice, really. It’s rich and thick and musical as an opera singer's.

The ringmaster spreads his hands out. “Thank you all for joining us this evening. I think you will find yourselves challenged, and maybe even disturbed. But all we ask is that you keep an open mind and a willingness to change.”

Nile’s breath is hot as he whispers in Levi’s ear. “It’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses after all!” 

Levi lands an elbow, hard, in his side, and hears Nile make an _oof!_ in the dark. The man has begun walking around the circle now, prowling it with grace despite being a fucking giant, and Levi refuses to be distracted.

“We will not ask you to silence your phones or put them away. However, you may feel very differently about them upon conclusion of what you see tonight.” He pauses for effect. “Without further ado, we bring you the show!”

The spotlight goes out amid scattered applause. Levi barely has time to miss the man before the ring pops back to light. It’s accompanied by this weird, old, frantic instrumental music. Levi flashes back to old Warner Brothers cartoons, Sylvester chasing Tweety-Bird around without a clue.

It’s an intersection, marked by stoplights. People hurry in both directions, dressed in black with a few props here and there – briefcases in their hands, wearing backpacks. Leaning against each of the stoplights is a panhandler, wearing a sign or holding out a hat. Without exception, the pedestrians pass by, staring at the phones in their hands. Slowly, the panhandlers slide to the ground, bowing their heads. One of them falls across the “sidewalk,” but the actors just step over her.

The light goes out. There’s no applause this time. Nile leans over again. “Come to Oregon, where even the circus is run by commies!” he laughs.

“So it’s a little weird,” Levi whispers, joining a general confused murmuring around them. “Give it a chance.”

“Like eating asshole?” he asks, reasonably, and Levi has to admire his callback skills.

When the light comes back up there’s a table and four chairs in the middle of the ring. An old ‘50s TV theme song plays, as a man and a woman come to the table, each holding a serving dish. Two smaller actors slouch in with plates, cups and utensils. They busy themselves setting the table and sit. Then, each makes a show of pulling out their phone. They silently mime eating and surfing their devices for a while, until, one at a time, each gets up and drifts off into the darkness, still staring at their phone. The overly-cheerful music abruptly cuts out.

Nile, meanwhile, is sitting the way he always does when the plant holds mandatory trainings, leaning as far back as possible with his arms a wall across his chest. Levi just sighs. He’s never understood conceptual art, or theater, or whatever this is, but he figures the fault is probably his. He wouldn’t call himself a particularly sophisticated guy.

Two lamps click on down below. They bookend a double bed, shared by their ringmaster and the woman from the ticket window lying side by side and, yes, engrossed in their phones.

They’re in bathrobes over their black theater wear, and Levi stares at the man like he’s studying him for a test. He has reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. His shoulders are so broad, especially compared to the woman, he could be wearing football gear. His legs are crossed at the ankle, his bare feet hanging over the edge.

Their seats are too far away to possibly make this out. But Levi imagines his face, maybe his distracted frown as he scrolls, ignoring the woman beside him.

Then the sleaziest, tackiest ‘80s porn soundtrack possible oozes over the sound system, and the two in the bed turn to each other. The woman pushes the man onto his back and climbs onto him. He remains riveted by his phone. So does she, even as she mechanically rides him. Levi finds himself slouching back in his seat, arms crossed as tightly as Nile’s.

The music comes to some kind of a climax and the woman casually rolls off. The two reach out in sudden, jarring silence to click off the bedside lamps. The only light remaining is the cool blue glow of their phones.

Nile doesn’t even get a chance to make a comment. There’s a screech from the sound system, a clatter like a toolbox being dropped down a flight of stairs, as lights flame on around them. The audience contributes some high pitched screams and a few yells clearly made by male throats.

For the briefest moment, in that eyeblink of time between seeing and comprending, they’re surrounded by giants, and Levi jumps to his feet.

He sits, sheepishly, Nile laughing at him but looking a little startled himself. Below them, huge, lumpy, naked, truly freaky humanoid puppets stalk around the ring, operated by their versatile men and women in black. Levi’s suddenly grateful they sat where they did. The actors aren’t holding back, invading the first few rows as the audience screams and laughs and tries to get away.

Most creepy of all, each puppet is a copy of one of the actors. Like the punchline to a bad joke, Levi spots the ringmaster’s double, and his giant, dumb blue eyes make Levi shudder.

The actors lurch their puppets out of the tent, to terrorize Salem, Levi guesses. The noise over the sound system builds and just when he thinks he might lose his mind, it suddenly cuts out the same moment the lights do.

That’s it. There’s no resolution. Just, a big bummer of a public service announcement.

The actors line up at the exit, sweaty and out of breath but glowing, like they hope people will be up for a discussion of the issues instead of quickly ushering their kids out. Levi hangs back stubbornly, waiting for the traumatized crowd to disperse. Nile waits at his side, which can only mean he’s gearing up for another go at the woman from the ticket window.

Given how close she’s standing to the giant blond ringmaster, Levi kind of wants to tell him not to bother. But knowing how Nile thrives on a challenge, he knows he’d just be wasting his breath.

It doesn’t take long for the crowd to beat it, and Levi marches up to the ringmaster. Another actor with catastrophic brown hair and safety goggles (for some reason) gasps before he can say a word. She whacks the man on the arm, hard.

“Erwin! Someone actually wants to give us feedback!”

Levi finds every eye in the receiving line fixed on him and Nile. It’s an oddly backwards feeling, a little like being at the zoo only they’re the ones in the display case. The woman from the ticket window gifts him with another of her warm smiles. And the giant blond – the ringmaster – this oddly commanding man, Erwin, looks down on him with this stare that’s way past intense.

It’s edging into rude, if Levi is honest with himself. It’s both flattering and off-putting; his junior high self would’ve told the guy to take a picture.

Thankfully, Levi’s a professional adult, so instead he says “Your ending is shit.”

The woman in the safety goggles bursts out laughing but the giant’s eye contact with Levi doesn’t waver. “Excuse me?”

“The ending. You have this big climax, and then you just blow it.”

There’s a thick silence then, like this weird little troupe isn’t used to considering alternate viewpoints, maybe because they’re too busy ass-kissing their Fearless Leader. Though, Levi can hardly blame them. Up close, the man is so almost supernaturally attractive he doesn’t even seem like a real, live human being.

Levi’s surprised when the woman from the ticket window is the one to say something, sighing tiredly as she pulls on the man’s arm. “C’mon, Erwin, let’s call it a night. Everyone’s a critic.” She turns back to him and Nile. “Thank you both for coming out, we appreciate it.”

“The pleasure was all ours,” Nile answers immediately, negating anything Levi is trying to put across. Never mind that words are not Levi’s friend and he hardly knows what he wants to say, even if they were.

The woman snorts but rewards Nile with a cockeyed smirk. “Have a good night,” she tells them.

Levi can take a hint. He turns and hurries towards the parking lot, glad to hear Nile behind him. He doesn’t want to have to make a second trip in the wrong direction to collect him in the morning.

*

That night, Levi claws up from the depths of sleep, gasping into anonymous darkness. It’s such a jarring transition he has to stumble out of bed and lean his forehead against the window, to reorient himself to the soothing banality of the Motel 6 parking lot and the bikes parked under the window and the strip mall in the distance. Finally, when his heart isn’t trying to pop out of his chest anymore, he turns back to the room and slides quietly back into bed. He stares up at the little red light blinking on the smoke alarm on the ceiling, listening to Nile breathe. The sound is peaceful, and Levi envies his friend so much.

…the monsters are real. That’s all he can figure, that’s the only explanation, after the utter clusterfuck of a nightmare he just escaped.  
Because it wasn’t a nightmare, not really. It was a memory. It was a bona-fide experience. No random creation of his brain could possibly be that solid, injected with real terror and excitement and the crystal-clear edges of seeing everything first-hand.

The monsters were real in this memory, awkward and naked and so much like the puppets in the show. Or, the puppets were so much like the monsters, like someone in Erwin’s troupe had these same memories and translated them the best they could with what they had. Because the real monsters were huge, bigger than a house, able to grab you and eat you whole. Levi watched people eaten in the nightmare memory, but they didn’t look surprised about it. It was like getting torn apart by a manically grinning giant and all his friends was a regular occurrence in this universe. Levi didn’t know which was more obscene.

…but then, Levi remembers running, and throwing himself off a roof like some suicidal Superman, and somehow not falling. Better, he remembers coasting up free as a bird on an updraft before shooting down, the monsters in his path falling. He remembers the sprays of hot blood that doused him head to toe. And he remembers the terrified people he literally rescued from the jaws of death, the dazed look in their eyes as they tried to process that the steaming carcasses around them were no longer a threat. He remembers that they thanked him. And like the cheesiest cliché straight out of some old Western, Levi remembers just scoffing in response. It was his job.

There’s no more sleep for Levi that night. He reorganizes his duffel, takes a shower, and opens the drapes to let in the sound of morning traffic and the sunlight. Nile doesn’t even stir.

Sliding a cup of the shitty in-room coffee under his nose finally does the trick. “Man, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He manages to focus on Levi’s face. “Damn, you look like hell. Didn’t you sleep?”

Levi rudely kicks the bed, sloshing coffee onto Nile’s hand. He hisses. “Hurry up and get dressed. We’re going back out to the circus. Show. Thing.”

“Big top,” Nile corrects, slurping gingerly. “Wait, now? And why? Didn’t you get enough preachy moralizing last night?”

“I… have a proposition for them,” Levi says, slowly. It’s the best explanation he can come up with, given how half-assed his non-plan is and how utterly it is not based in any scientifically-provable facts.

Nile does his single-eyebrow-raise thing. “Huh. Would this… ‘proposition’ be, oh, 6-4, with a cock to match?”

Levi straightens up from pulling on his boots. “Since when are you the drooling scene-guy, all of a sudden?”

“I have eyes,” he says reasonably. He hauls himself out of bed, stretching his back like an old man. “Friend to friend, I just gotta tell ya you’re wasting your time. Blondie’s straight.”

Levi snorts and Nile dares to act insulted. “I’m just saying. Body language is its own… language. As a straight man, you can just tell.”

*

When they pull the bikes around the last turn into the county fairground parking lot, there’s the big white tent, looking smaller in the harsh morning light. Levi is flooded with a surge of relief, like running to the gate late for a flight, greeted by the impossible sight of the plane still there, waiting for him.

That just begs the second question: where do these mysterious social justice warriors stay? Levi leads Nile in a loop around to the backside of the tent and is supremely satisfied (relieved?) to find a big old ‘70s RV, parked in the shade.

They pull to a stop and cut the motors. The camper is sort of a beautifully-kept wreck, slouching and seeming to stare at them out of the big eyes of its windshield. There’s not a sound from inside, and Levi wonders if anyone’s even home. He glances over at Nile. Nile shrugs. Big help, as usual.

When he looks back, Levi almost jumps out of his skin. He’s startled enough to make a tiny scream, something he’s very glad his full-face helmet manages to hide.

Erwin is standing at his side, huge in a plaid flannel bathrobe, his hair messed up and a complicated expression on his face - half irritated, half intrigued. Nile manages to outpace him, again, pulling his helmet off and giving the giant his best disarming smile. Levi can’t help scowling as he frees himself from his own helmet.

“Hey, Erwin. Sorry to bust in on you all so early. Looks like we woke you up.”

Erwin looks between them, blinking slowly. Levi suddenly gets a sense of how the paper in the copier must feel when the laser passes over.

“No, I was awake. I was thinking about what you gentlemen said last night after the show, actually.”

Nile lets out a guffaw. “Damn, if that was keeping you up, I should share what we said DURING it.” He leans over and shoves a bony hand in Erwin’s direction. “Nile Dok, pleased to meetcha. This here’s my road buddy and coworker Levi Ackerman.”

Erwin steps in to shake and leans over Levi to do so. Levi holds his breath. He’s not unused to being dwarfed. It’s pretty much a daily occurrence. But this… isn’t that.

Erwin pulls back, nodding too-seriously at them both. “What do you guys do?”

Levi manages to get his tongue to work, finally. “We make bikes, back East. Harleys.” Erwin flicks his (blue) gaze down and back up.

“You aren’t riding Harleys.”

“Always buy Japanese,” Levi tells him, and Erwin acts like it’s the funniest fucking thing he’s ever heard, tossing his head back and letting out this _laugh_ , this ha-ha-ha that’s Santa as a younger guy unburdened by all those damn toy orders. His eyes dance as he looks back to them.

“I was about to have some tea if you’d both like to join me. Everyone’s still asleep so we could take it in the tent.”

Nile does Erwin’s too-serious nod back at him. “Yeah, I think Levi has some, uh, business he’d like to discuss. He has a proposal for you –“

Levi shuts him up with a swift punch in his general kidney region.

They sit at the edge of the ring, Nile slurping contentedly from his cup next to Erwin. Levi sits a bleacher up, carefully lines his booted feet in parallel lines and carefully folds his hands around the welcome warmth of the chipped ceramic. It’s chilly in the dim, stale air and he doesn’t know how Erwin can seem so comfortable in a bathrobe and – he notes with amusement – those old-school flip-flop slippers that don’t even cover his heels. He’s pantless, for God’s sake, something Levi firmly works to ignore as the man talks.

Helpfully, it’s interesting. Weird as hell, to be honest. Something about being a mission-driven non-profit, committed to spreading the word about the dangers of the modern world…? Or, something? The current show, he tells them (unnecessarily) is about how cellphones are turning us all into mindless, horrific shells of ourselves. It’s apparently the latest of a series. Erwin fires off a litany of past show topics – corporate greed, the gutting of the welfare state, global warming – his baritone voice gaining angry weight with each one.

“And then we end each show with the Attack of the Titans,” he finishes, raising his mug to Levi and taking a drink.

“Uh, you mean chasing the audience out with those puppets?”

“NOW we come to it. Finally,” Nile says.

Erwin leans forward on his (shapely) knees. “Yes, we do. So, I admit, we don’t have the budget to truly bring my vision to life. We aren’t Cirque du Soleil.”

Nile laughs as Levi’s heart kicks in his chest, as he feels the horror of those… things from his dream, as he remembers the bliss of falling through the air. _My vision,_ Erwin said.

He leans forward over his own knees. “The puppets are fine. Shit, the puppets are great. Or, awful. Whatever. It’s your ending that’s the problem.”

“So you said last night,” Erwin says coolly but his eyes are hot.

“It’s basic human psychology!” Levi huffs. “You can’t lecture people about how everything is shit and then terrify the hell out of them and then just… end it there.”

“But everything IS shit,” Erwin frowns.

“No fuck. You can’t end it like that. You gotta leave ‘em with a shred of hope. Otherwise, they’re gonna just tune the whole thing out.” He stabs a finger in Erwin’s face, alight with purpose. “Tell me. How’s your box office been?”

“We get by,” he says, but his frown is deeper, and his eyes haven’t left Levi’s.

“Boom,” Nile grins. “The suspense is killing me, cupcake. What’s your magic plan?”

Levi looks between them, suddenly aware of the ridiculousness of what he’s about to say. “We, uh. We Cirque du Soleil the fuck out of it.”

Erwin is the one to laugh this time but Levi blunders on. “We end with uplift. Literally. We have a hero swoop in and take those puppets down.”

Nile scoffs “We?” while Erwin just waits. 

“Yeah, we. That’s my proposal. I’m suggesting I play some symbolic Angel of Hope, or something. I dunno, you’re the director, you figure it out.” He turns to Nile who looks about as thrilled as Levi would expect. “You work the… lines for me, or wires, or whatever the hell. I pretend to kill your damn Titans. Nile makes sure I don’t kill myself. Ta da, happy uplifting ending means happy audiences, means repeat customers.” He catches up with his mouth. “And. I guess that means we join your group. Troupe. Whatever.”

Erwin has been smiling through all of it. He doesn’t even look surprised. He wears the face of a kid listening to a parent tell a favorite story.

He’s standing up before even Nile can think up a retort, holding a hand out to Levi.

Nile finds his voice. “It’s my duty to inform you, Erwin, that neither of us have any experience with what he’s suggesting.”

Levi doesn’t even bother to look over, bringing his tiny hand to Erwin’s paw with a satisfying smack and giving it a firm shake. “We don’t need to be on the payroll until you know for sure the act is gonna work,” he says tactically. Erwin tilts his head. Nile makes an incredulous sound to his right. “We’re on vacation, we were probably heading your direction anyway. What we don’t want is to cause any friction.” He blinks innocently. “We did make an okay impression on the woman selling the tickets, for what it’s worth.”

Erwin finally releases his hand. “Ah, Marie. Yes, she keeps the books for the show. I think she’ll be very intrigued by your changes. I’ll talk to her.” He takes a step back, putting his hands behind his back in his commander stance. In his disheveled state, it should look ridiculous. Somehow, it doesn’t.

“She and I started the troupe, oh, almost ten years back now? I guess you’d call me the ideas guy. Too bad I don’t have a head for the numbers.”

“Good thing you got the little lady then to help you out,” Nile tells him solicitously. Erwin blinks at him.

“…yes, for sure. Then, our other secret weapon is Hanji. She’s the one who makes all the Titans. Funny… she doesn’t have any theater background. Moblit found her on some anarchist listserv.”

Erwin chuckles to himself, shaking his head. It’s Levi’s turn to blink at him.

“Not to sound like an antisocial bastard, but can my buddy and I here take a look at your space and see what we can do?”

Nile lifts his hands in a _don’t blame me_ gesture. “You’ll get used to him. Maybe.”

*

Levi touches gently down on the packed dirt of the ring. He barely registers the lusty cheers and whoops of the troupe as they echo around the empty tent (Hanji’s, of fucking course, about 50 dBs ahead of everyone else). He’s too busy riding this wave of… pure elation? Bliss? Just, this sensation that must be shared by every bird of prey, every fighter pilot, every thrill-seeking BASE-jumper out there, when they come back to themselves after successfully accomplishing what they were born to do.

Hanji’s puppets are scattered around the ring in various states of violent death, every one decapitated or otherwise dismembered. Its funny how right Levi’s half-assed staging instincts were. “Live,” the puppets ARE Titans, full of uncanny power. But Hanji took to Levi’s plan like an anarchist to anarchy, making clever breaks in her construction that let him fight the monsters (with a big prop sword) and put them together again when he’s done. “Dead,” the Titans are just puppets, hardly worth screaming about.

Petra’s the first to reach Levi, grabbing him into a trash-compacting hug. Her eyes are huge with hero worship when she pulls back.

“Levi, that was your best flight yet. You’ve gotta let us have a go. Or – at least those of us who are BUILT for it,” she aims at the goofy guy who pulls up next to her. Levi hasn’t quite figured out what’s up between those two – Petra’s constant verbal abuse suggests they’re married but he sees no ring – but their instant obsession with him is both annoying and endearing.

Levi hums in thought. “I like the idea of a team of fliers. Sorta sends a better message, that all this shit can’t get solved by someone else. That we all have to do it.” He glances blindly up to find himself meeting gazes with Erwin, who’s drifted over to chat with Nile about the act. Levi watches them for a second, Nile in the other half of the belay gear, Erwin severe and dangerous in all black for their dress-rehearsal. He watches Erwin move his mouth in conversation – perfectly normally – while he sends Levi his thousand-yard stare.

Again.

 _Rude_.

Levi shifts to face Erwin, raising his voice across the ring. “I dunno, what do you think, Erwin? How about we give some of these other talented folks a chance on the wires too? REALLY make your insurance company happy?”

He’s amused to hear Marie behind him, as usual quicker to the punch than their director. “Oh, hell no, Erwin…”

*

Levi is unsurprised when he receives proof that his smooth used-car salesman of a friend is, in fact, successful in his quest to woo the good lady Marie. What’s surprising is how little time it takes.

They’re at their next stop – the Western State Fairgrounds in Boise – for the debut of the new-new version of Erwin’s crazy show. Levi’s waiting in the shadows, breathing deep, tugging the stays on his safety gear one more time, straightening the eccentric quasi-military uniform Erwin dreamed up.

And then he’s greeted with this unmistakable, sweet scent. It’s nice; it’s floral without being cloying. It’s jasmine essential oil, as a matter of fact, about which he had an involved conversation with Marie after complimenting her on her excellent taste.

“Damn, Nile,” he mutters to the source as it saunters up behind him in the dark. “I gotta hand it to you. You don’t fuck around.”

“Except when I do. Boom!” Nile whispers, right in Levi’s ear, damp and disgusting. Levi recoils.

“You don’t deserve her. At all.”

“That’s funny. I think you completely deserve Herr Director.”

Levi _hmphs_ , unable to reply. They watch the ring for a minute. Levi has to admit, the goofy little morality plays have managed to grow on him, even sort of get under his skin. The anemic size of the crowd – smaller than Salem, no surprise – feels more like a challenge than a sign they’re wasting their time.

He thinks Nile may be right.

*

People actually come up to talk to them after the show. Granted, there’s a grand total of three of them, a hippie mom dragging a tween kid, and a guy in cowboy boots. But they all share the same expression… this funny look like they’re just, really awake. Like someone just startled them out of a daze, in a way that makes them grab the actors’ arms and shake their hands and even gets the awkward tween out of his shell.

They’re most awed by Levi, for some reason. He’s part of a team, he and Petra and her goofy frenemy (Oulo). Levi would argue Petra’s the best flier of them. The hippie mom and the awkward kid and the cowboy are polite to them all but they fawn over Levi, and he struggles to act like a normal human and keep the scowl off his face.

Erwin holds him back after everyone else has piled into the RV for a trip to the nearest bar to celebrate. Levi thinks of a few good questions he could ask in this rare moment of privacy.

“What’d I fucking say, Erwin?” That was one option. A little cocky, maybe.

“Any notes?” Nah… there’d be time for that at their inevitable group powwow. Hanji was already polling everyone for better break-points on the puppets as they headed off to the bar.

“So… what are we doing here, exactly?” That’s what Levi’s brain wanted to know most of all.

Somehow, though, his body was okay just looking at Erwin, at how much darker his hair got when it was wet with sweat, at how criminally good he looked in his stage eyeliner and blush and lipstick, even though (because?) it was smudged and imperfect.

Erwin doesn’t seem surprised at his dopey, extended silence. He seems perfectly fine not breaking it, for a time too long to be casual. Finally, he reaches out to squeeze Levi’s elbow. It’s a funny thing to do, in a way, the place you might grab someone to save them from falling, or maybe where you hold someone you’re very familiar with, as you walk together side by side.

“How did that feel?” he finally asks. Levi appreciates his choice of words.

How was it to fly? To do something dumb and risky and pull it off? How did it feel to somehow find a like-minded gang after a forever of being the odd dude out? How did it feel to be looked at like _this?_

Levi decides words, as usual, can’t accurately communicate feelings for shit. As he grabs poor Erwin and yanks him down far enough to kiss, Erwin fumbling his arms around him, Levi settles on: 

_…Satisfied._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
